Chapter 1

1

FINN

December 16, 2022

“ I t was on December 16, 1952, between eight and eight thirty p.m. That’s when they say it happened. Laura DiSanti had given birth in the small hospital of the asylum. It was a brutal delivery. They say it shook up the entire goddamned asylum. Screaming could be heard everywhere.”

“Ugh, that's gross.”

“And you know what? No one came to see her. Not even a single family member.”

“Newspapers mentioned a snowstorm that night,” I say. “They wouldn’t have been able to make it with roads being closed off. And the forest…” We all look around at the trees that surround us.

“Don't say it like that,” Jess mutters. “I'm already freaking out.”

“No Santa for the sick bitches.” Levi tilts back his head and howls at the rapidly darkening sky.

“Stop it, you idiot,” Jess hisses, jabbing his side. “You’ll wake up the dead spirits who linger here.”

“Yeah, no Santa,” Lea agrees softly. “And no one else to come and claim the baby. Or defend Laura when she was thrown into isolation right after she had given birth.”

“That's because she'd been a bad girl.” David chirps. “Thank you DiSanti, because you are exactly what we need to graduate from college. You’ll turn us into successful psychologists. You and your crazy.” When he catches me chuckling, David narrows his gaze. “What are you laughing at, loser? Get me another drink.”

“Oh, stop treating him like that,” Jess spouts as I hand her boyfriend his coke.

“Like what?” David snorts. “He is a loser. Right, Doc?”

“ Doc .” Levi chuckles. “Dude, you're such an asshole.”

“Oh, he knows me.” David watches me intently. Pursing my lips, I give him a slight nod. “That’s what I thought. Now go get my girl a drink as well, Finn .”

Embarrassment coils in my stomach as I grab her a soda. I want to throw the damn can, but as if hearing my thoughts, David clicks his tongue.

“Not like that, loser. Get your lazy ass up and hand it to her.”

Everyone's gone quiet watching me get up and do as he says. But before Jess can get the can, David grabs my wrist and squeezes, plucking the drink out of my grip. “Now, remember that you're nothing. You will always be a loser. The only reason why you're here is because of that authorization letter in your pocket. Got it?”

“Yes,” I mutter as I stare at my feet.

I should never have told Lea about my fascination with the DiSanti Massacre or let them tag along.

Lea pinches my side. “Just ignore David and focus on tonight. On the house of horror we're about to go in.”

It’s never just with David, but she doesn’t have to know that. He’s been making my life hell ever since…

“I still can’t believe we were given permission to access the building,” Levi mutters.

“Same,” Lea agrees.

“ House of Horror, ” Jess says between David’s kisses. “I can't wait.”

Lea ignores her. She’s looking at me instead. “How could they have kept her in isolation for six months right after she'd given birth?” She whispers. “What on earth did she do to deserve that? ”

“The newspaper articles of that time didn’t mention it. They don’t mention anything about Laura, just about the killings.”

“So what now, Doc?” David’s words are muffled against Jess’s skin. “She still in there?”

“This has become a rescue mission.” Levi sings, and once more, they both burst out laughing.

“Oh, stop it,” Lea grumbles. “This event is sad and fucked up in so many ways. I can’t help but wonder—was it insanity that made her kill those people? Was it because she spent all these months in the isolation room?”

I contemplate her questions. In my opinion, that’s why this case is so fascinating. “I am no expert, but if this happened now and the offender was still alive, I believe that’s what the defense would plea that it was the facility that drove her mad. But there’s no way to tell what happened.”

Newspapers back then claimed that Laura DiSanti went insane after she was finally released from the isolation room. Insane enough to kill six people.

“So, on December 16, 1952, Laura gets released from isolation and goes on a killing spree. What about the baby?”

“Her child would have been six months old,” Jess mumbles. “The baby who miraculously disappeared. Do you think it was still alive?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe? They say that she chose her victims on purpose. That she wrapped a glass shard in fabric and killed them.”

“A thorn of hatred,” Lea cites. “That's what the newspapers called it.”

“They were so poetic back then,” David jokes.

“They were,” Jess murmurs. “But a thorn of hatred? Do you really think that after all these years, we can still find evidence of Laura’s presence there?”

David holds up a hand. “Uh uh. If that’s your way of trying to back out, you’re too late, baby girl. We’re going in there. I canceled practice for this.” He looks my way, and I wither inwardly. “Which you will give me.”

Jess eyes me innocently. “You did say you’d write this paper, didn’t you?”

I sigh. Fuck, I hate this.

“And record that hell house from the inside,” David adds. “No backing out now.”

“I’m not,” eying my bag. “I brought my camera.” I could have used my phone, but I don’t want this project to be just good. I want it to be the best . I need it to be the best because I want a better future and a kick-ass job.

“What time are we heading in there anyway?” Jess asks. “It’s getting pretty fucking dark out here.”

Lea checks her phone. “It’s nearly six o’clock. The massacre took place between eight and eight-thirty. Call me a freak, but I want to be inside that asylum at that time.”

“Freak,” Jess says dryly.

Lea sticks out her tongue.

“Let’s go, then,” David orders as we get up. “Doc, you fold up my girls’ blankets.”

The snow hushes our footsteps, creating a soft, crunching sound that does nothing to soothe my nerves.

“Professor Mathews explicitly said that he’d give extra credit to those who do field research, so I’m glad you brought your camera, Finn,” Lea says.

“Well, he’d better make good use of it,” David grumbles. “He’s the one writing the damn paper.”

I grind my teeth at those words.

“Well, even if you’re here just for the ride, you’d better make yourself useful.” Lea pushes him forward. “By opening the damn doors when we get there.”

“Woof.” He winks at me. “Unless you want to volunteer?”

“And be serious, for fuck’s sake!”

And be quiet.

Our flashlights illuminate the path that leads us toward the asylum. I can’t help but wonder how many patients must have walked here before. Even though the asylum shut its doors in February 1953, shortly after the DiSanti massacre, it had been open for nearly a hundred years. Its capacity was a hundred and forty patients, which made it a large facility for that time.

“Holy shit.” Lea halts, Jess nearly bumping into her. In front of us, the darkened lines of the gothic building appear.

“What?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so—” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Real? I’m glad you’re with us, Finn.”

“Don’t exaggerate, babe,” Levi muses, but she shakes him off, annoyed.

“Well, I am . Perhaps you just came along because you’re curious, but this guy has spent God knows how many hours of research into this project.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have a social life,” Levi mutters.

I ignore the comment and focus on the view instead. She is right. This place has been the source of my passion for years now. God knows how often I’ve drawn it. However, I have never been this close before.

This asylum is the cherry on the cake for a freak like me.

The crime was apparent, but everything around it wasn’t, making it a mystery. It’s the perfect research for a determined psychology student.

By the entrance, a stone animal—or what’s left of it—sits at the foot of the stairs: one feline-shaped eye, half a nose, and part of a grin. Lea snaps a picture and then lifts her light. “What the hell is that?”

“A bad omen.”

“It’s called a grotesque,” I answer. “A mythical figure carved from stone. It’s fixated on the walls. It might look scary, but engraving those in buildings was common in that era.”

“What the hell for?” Levi grumbles. “No, wait. Don’t answer that.” He steps up the stairs, followed by David. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

Massive iron doors separate us from a horrific past.

“Fuck me,” Lea whispers next to me. “This is so fucking freaky. Is it open? Finn?”

“Yes, it should be.” The authorization letter to visit the property sits heavy in my rucksack.

“Get your camera,” Jess hisses.

As the guys start pushing the door, I struggle with the zipper, hands clammy with sweat. The reality of what we’re about to do is hitting me. I’m already feeling light-headed and we haven’t even started.

“It’s locked. Man,” David sighs. “If it’s privately owned, shouldn’t we have been given a set of keys?”

“You’ve just got to push harder,” Lea urges. “This door has probably not been opened for a long time.”

“She’s right. I feel movement,” Levi finally pants.

“Film this,” Jess mutters in my ear.

The camera slides between my palms and I nearly drop it from my nerves.

Jess watches my fumbles and pulls the strap over my head. “There. That’s what they have these things for.” She smiles at me, but her eyes can't hide her fear. And at that moment, I wonder if she’ll back out. I wonder if I will.

Maybe we all should.

“Yes!”

The doors open with a loud tired groan. The long creak leaves an echo that has my eyes tearing behind my glasses.

Jess and I exchange one final look as we follow the others in. We’ve barely taken a few steps inside when the doors suddenly close with an unexpected force, trapping us inside.

Jess yelps.

“Alright, nice entrance,” David chuckles.

“Holy shit,” I mutter as I film the inky-black corridor. “We’re inside Saint James’s Asylum for Women. This facility closed in 1953 after the Laura DiSanti massacre, one of the biggest crime mysteries to date. On December sixteenth, today, exactly seventy years ago, at eight in the evening, Laura DiSanti took a shard of glass from the kitchen and killed four nurses and two other patients. We're about to reveal where exactly those killings took place and much more.”

The thought is…unsettling. I think the others feel it, too, because no one speaks.

We start walking into the darkness when suddenly we see a flash of light.

“Holy shit,” Lea whispers. “Was that a light bulb?”

“ Was , yes. It just flashed.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Did you film it?”

I nod, baffled. I swear I heard someone laugh.

Then Jess screams. She staggers back and starts banging on the doors. “No! I want out, I want out!”

“Jess—” Lea starts, but Jess is losing her shit, despite Levi hugging her tightly. Not wanting to film her breaking down, I turn around, the camera still attached to my glasses.

“I want out of here,” Jess sobs behind us.

“Okay, we’ll get you out.” Levi opens the door, creaking once more as if it hadn’t just been opened.

I block out their murmurs and step further inside the corridor.

“Now that was scary,” I tell my future audience. “As we came in, a light bulb exploded. It could be a mere coincidence…”

“Or someone was waiting for us, whahahaha.”

I jump when David growls the words in my ear, making Levi laugh. “Sorry, Doc, we didn’t mean to scare the shit out of you.”

“Let it go,” Lea snaps. “Just… get off his back for once.”

“Thank y?—”

The front door slides shut with a smooth bang, making my teeth rattle, and I swallow my words. I feel like we're locked inside. It's suffocating.

Lea is the first one to make a move. “Okay, let’s do this. Jess is gone, so there’s only four of us now.”

We start walking, Levi and David ahead of us. Their flashlights shine up on the walls, and I record some of the words written on them.

“ Hail Mary, ” I read them out loud to my future audience. “Look at this one. ‘ Please let me leave. ’ You can't help but think about what these women went through. Back in the nineteenth century, women could even be sent here by their own husbands if they weren’t satisfied with their wives.”

We continue walking down the hall, with doors lining both sides.

“This is where the communal areas would be,” I explain. “Most facilities had gaming rooms, prayer rooms, even knitting and sewing rooms where patients could make their clothes. Anything to pass the time.”

“Look at that,” Lea whispers. Her flashlight registers an old-fashioned kitchen. “Let’s check it out.”

There are broken plates and overturned chairs, a table with remnants of a tablecloth, and an old radio.

“Laura DiSanti supposedly killed at least one of her victims in the kitchen. But, when we were given the architectural drawings of the facility, we learned there were at least three kitchens.” I let out a forced laugh. “I guess this wasn’t the one. Let’s go.”